Blackpudding Poems
A COUNTRY CANVAS
by Sean Hallinan
the rakings of my day,
dying embers reflect the pictures,
embellished along the way.
silver-snow breasted snipe
glide over lough na leanbh,
back-drop December clouds,
sleet sacks adorning,
crisp winter morning.
on Cloneen hill-fields,
sheep scoop swedes,
leaving radiant mini-moons,
illuminated by slanting sun.
at gutter-filled gateways,
hungry heifers chew-cud and stand,
awaiting trundling tractors,
and busy barons of the land.
rabbits scurry close
to dead furze ditches,
headless of the music,
from evening song of thrushes.
chain-saws groan mid-stout logs,
herdsmen call to working dogs,
gently falls the veil of silent night
softly splutter the flames of firelight.
APRIL IN PARTRY
by Bernadette Keaveney
when people fall in love?
In Ballyglass and Ballyvary
there are blue skies up above.
And why should it be Berkely Square
when a nightingale sings her song?
Cupid strikes in Coolmeen too
when the right person comes along.
That old black magic has you
in its spell ...
It happens in Acapulco
but in Aghamore as well
The leaves of brown come tumbling down,
remember, don't we all?
But love grows in September
strolling through Moorehall.
Love is all around, the Beatles said,
I'm inclined to agree...
Romance comes dropping with the leaves
that carpet Ballinaglee.
CHANGING TIMES.
by Ann Duggan
Set dancing was then all the rage,
They didn't win medals or enter for "Scor",
As we do each year on the Stage.
On long Summer evenings at crossroads they met,
Box players and fiddlers go leir
And the Countryhouse Dance on cold Winter nights,
Saw neighbours knock sparks off the floor.
But times keep a changing, new trends come and go,
The ballrooms, live music, big bands,
Gave way to the Disco with earsplitting sound
Flashing lights to bedazzle the fans.
Those scenes are now over, the dance halls are closed
No foxtrots or jiving or prancing,
A new foot tapping-fever is gripping the land,
Young and old are now hooked on LINE DANCING!
